Just In Time
A better babymoon (or whatever you want to call it) and other end of/endless summer delights
There was a point not long ago, which is to say earlier in this pregnancy (which is to say a lifetime ago), when nothing sent my eyes a-rolling more than the suggestion of a “babymoon.” Every hotel we went to—once I had begun showing, or turned down a complimentary cocktail or tartare or otherwise gave myself away as being in an altered state (gestation)—someone would grin and say “babymoon?” in that winky way. For one thing, I don’t really get the terminology: a honeymoon is after your wedding. A babymoon is before your baby comes. I guess it’s that it’s the two of you, ostensibly alone together for once? Like that hasn’t been the past 10+ years already. For another, it made me feel like I was wearing a Lucille Ball style maternity dress*: A lot frumpy, a little silly, and moreover, a victim of branding.
*Though thinking about those tented creations led me to this Slate story from 2021 about how the tie-waist skirt (a garment with which I was totally unfamiliar, and which had a sort of u-shaped cutout for the belly) saved Lucy’s screen time and helped to normalize being pregnant in public. This is an era when, to remind, “maternity clothes were meant to function as—in the words of a 1928 Vogue editorial—‘miracles of concealment.’”
With a large U-shape cut out at its top where the skirt met the waistband, the design had a drawstring flexibly encircling the growing belly, while a vertical tab connecting the skirt to one of a series of snaps on the waistband. As pregnancy progressed, the vertical tab could be let out and fastened to the next snap in the series, adjusting for fit while maintaining an even hemline. The tie around the waist, meanwhile, could be let out as the hips and rib circumference expanded. Combined with childlike accessories such as bows, tented tops (which hung down to hide the cutout at the top of the skirt), and Peter Pan collars, it was just subtle enough—a perfect panacea for the unutterable.
Speaking of the unutterable, please rest assured that my closet these past 9 months has nary a Peter Pan collar or floppy bow to be seen. But a tie waist skirt with a cut out isn’t a bad idea, actually. I definitely would have worn one by now, I think, rather than rolling the waistbands of everything down to Addison Rae (which let’s be honest, is really early aughts Britney) levels.
But to get back to the point, yes! I went on A Real Babymoon, and my friends! My friends! It was glorious.
Obviously at this point in the summer we’ve taken plenty of trips just the two of us. But that was just, like, traveling while pregnant. This was, from the outset, all about The Babymoon. There were set limitations: no planes. No overly long drives. Not too hot. (During a heatwave.) And dog friendly a must. And that’s how we found ourselves driving the hour and a half to Laguna Beach and checking in at the Montage. I had loose plans of exploring the area, which I know from prior trips is, like other coastal Californian enclaves, almost cartoonishly dreamy, with its surf and sweet shops and bikini-and-caftan clad denizens cruising around without a care in the world; those wide open beaches, pastel candyfloss colored sunsets and my god, even a school of leaping dolphins, as if they were paid for by the tourism board. My acupuncturist had mentioned that we might catch the tail end of the town’s legendary pageant of the masters* and you know I can’t resist a bizarre cultural exercise—but once we’d arrived, well… we didn’t feel like leaving. So… we didn’t.
The Montage, if you haven’t yet been, is terrific. It’s sort of what Shutters wishes it was here in LA (sorry, it’s true, and if you work there and are offended, well, hire me and I’ll help you get back to where you’re trying to be). Comfy coastal interiors, big rooms (all 200-something have ocean views), truly steps from the beach, fabulous, large pools (including one for adults only) with excellent cabana service, and a large spa that featured the best prenatal massage I’ve had yet. There’s a few restaurants on site, but Studio Mediterranean just reopened after a renovation. It’s located in its own little cliffside cottage, surrounded by these deeply compelling coastal vistas, and its sumptuous Greek inspired menu is really special. (Between the sunset views and the labneh soft serve sundae situation I am still thinking about it.) Everyone who works on property couldn’t have been friendlier—including, very importantly, to Hugo, who is still wearing his gifted personalized bandana. The whole thing was utter and complete bliss. So, you know, call it whatever you want. If that’s a Babymoon1 I’ll take two.
*If you were wondering about the Pageant of the Masters, well, so still am I. (I still remember the Arrested Development episode that parodied it.) The New York Times Magazine wrote about the show (and more quixotically about the purpose of art) so wonderfully in 2014:
The pageant takes place in an outdoor theater in the canyon itself: Bright red plastic seats face a stage, on which for six or so weeks every summer, reality and appearance struggle for dominance. It is an estuary of the real and the unreal; in the same way that water can be brackish, the Pageant of the Masters is real-ish.
The pageant is hard to describe, because it is — in a strict sense — unique: There is nothing else in the world like it. It is a stage show in which actual living humans pose, in elaborate makeup and sets and costumes, as paintings and sculptures by the old masters: Vermeer, Rembrandt, Bruegel, Leonardo, Botticelli, Manet, Donatello, Michelangelo and everyone else in your basic Intro to Art textbook. The old-fashioned term for this kind of performance is tableaux vivants, or “living pictures.” Victorians used to make them, on a much smaller scale, as a parlor game, but the practice died out with the rise of mass media and the decline of parlors. The very notion of a tableau seems to contain, fossilized, an alien relationship to culture.
It will not surprise you to learn in the piece that the Laguna Beach version has its own particularly alien aspects.
SHOPPING LIST
Thinking about Fall? Me too. It’s never too soon for the most fashion-friendly season. I will in all likelihood be confined to wearing smocks and their ilk, but you, you have places to be. This embroidered jersey dress is perfect for a cocktail party or very chic dinner. Ditto this one; nobody does prints like Johanna Ortiz. This TWP cashmere sweater comes in two perfect skin-flatteringly soft shades and has the exactly correct amount of slouch. I want both. Everyone needs an elegant trench coat, and this is a classic of the genre. I love, love, love a button-front knit dress. Light enough for when it’s still hot, polished enough for anywhere. This one is pretty perfect. The Mary Jane continues her reign, as does the velvet slipper: this one combines the two and has a chic pointed grosgrain toe, too, in the season’s favorite shade. This, on the other hand, is a really, really good boot. I have mixed feelings about the return of the slouchy boot (ask me about the knee high fringed Isabel Marants I paid full price for the first go-round and wore…once) but I can’t deny these speak to me. I love this Liffner belted bucket bag in brown leather or suede. Totally timeless and no annoying labels or logos. (And the right price!) Toteme has one too, in embossed croc. An elegant looking watch that’s not a million dollars? Yes, please. Crisp new true blue jeans in the perfect leg-lengthening cut? Of course. I could go on, but given my current investments for the season ahead are in the 0-3 month size…
A few more little things I’m particularly enjoying: This easily applied sleep-enhancing! magnesium oil. Wiggly, jiggly Gelée : low cal, high collagen, very stunning on a dinner table, if you’ve got a good mold for it. (A good dessert for ozempic era dinner parties.) Iris and Romeo hyaluronic spray: Light and luminizing and perfect for when it’s too hot for real moisturizer. True Botanicals’ decadent summer-skin-all-year-long sugar scrub: smells like heaven, feels even better. The Egg Shop cookbook! The beloved and iconic Nolita location has shut its doors, but don’t fret! the Williamsburg one thrives! This cookbook is a great one to have on hand when you want to spice up everyone’s favorite protein/choline superfood source, or feel like a cool kid curing their hangover downtown.
READING
I had been looking for a big expansive novel to fall into, and found it in Susanna Clarke’s excellent debut, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, which came out… 21 years ago, so don’t say I don’t keep you at the absolute cutting edge. But really, it’s so good. Like Jane Austen and Harry Potter for adults (but she’s not a bigot… speaking of have you ever seen the JK Rowling Has Black Mold conspiracy because I do find it… credible). It’s a doorstop, at 846 or so pages, but I devoured it in a week and bet you would too. Clarke more recently wrote the also very acclaimed novel Piranesi, which is much loved, but this one was easier to get into, if you ask me. She also writes only very sporadically due to chronic fatigue syndrome and other mysterious ailments that makes what we do have from her all the more precious. (It’s interesting that so many wonderful women writers have been terribly afflicted by illness. But I guess when else historically are women given so much time to simply think and so little else to do?)
I won’t pretend to understand Minecraft or its appeal, but I was fascinated to learn that someone on there (in there?) is making landscapes and architectural scenes inspired by Dutch Golden Age paintings. Hearteningly, they’re doing it for fun and artistic expression!
Do you remember the OneTaste scandal? I sure do! Who could forget an orgasmic meditation cult? My onetime former Vogue colleague, the great Thessaly Laforce, covered the trial of its founder for the New Yorker, if you missed it:
Sitting across from Daedone, I felt the weight of her attention. She has repeated her life story dozens of times, and understands the power of narrative to sell. She described herself to me as a conservative, not politically but in the tightly structured way she leads her life. “I practice religiously whatever I do,” she said. She oms most mornings and evenings. She maintains that she is being unfairly targeted because she is “a sexual woman.” She gestured at herself. “First of all, look at me,” she said, as if to point out that she didn’t look like a cult leader. She was wearing a beige blazer woven with gold threads that matched her beige pumps and honey-blond hair. She is clearly aware of how often her appearance is scrutinized—at the trial, the prosecution introduced evidence about a cosmetic procedure she’d undergone. Daedone told me that she had a “five-hundred-year plan to really inject a feminine ethos into the world.” I asked her what she thought about the fact that the judge and five of the senior attorneys at her trial were women. (One of the prosecutors, Kayla Bensing, was also visibly pregnant.) Was that not proof of a feminine ethos?
Daedone looked at me quizzically. “I think what you’re seeing are all the faces of woman in one place,” she said. “And then you’re seeing the fundamental chasm and the ways we’re torn asunder.”
TO SEE
Los Angeleans! I encourage you to go check out the LACMA exhibition Realms of the Dharma: Buddhist Art Across Asia. Some near 200 works that have been unavailable for hometown public viewing for a very long time are now out for the gazing. (Most of the art on view was packed up around eight years ago in preparation for the demolition of the museum’s original campus and construction of the new Geffen permanent collection building. What’s now installed in the Resnick Pavilion is a version of what went on tour in 2018 but got waylaid by COVID.) It’s really beautiful, and a kind of balm during these times. Also: air conditioned! An excellent outing. “Works from the 2nd to 18th centuries share a sense of stable, enduring calm,” writes the LA Times: “Who doesn’t need that right now?”
I very much enjoyed having breakfast with Rose Byrne for her C Magazine cover. She’s exceptionally funny in the new season of Platonic (on Apple+), which you should definitely watch if you haven’t already begun, and exceptionally moving in the wild and disturbing and definitely un-funny but destined to be very talked about If I Had Legs I’d Kick You, which people are already making a big fuss about at the festivals.
The Instant Classics podcast . The brilliant Mary Beard! Talking about Roman history! Rarely have I punched that follow button so fast. I am delighted.
Criterion Collection remains unmatched in the curation department, and their 90s soundtrack selection is no exception. Truly excellent end of summer fare.
That’s all I have for you at the moment. Thanks, as always, for being here.
xx ATC
Now that I’ve accepted “baby moons,” should we venture into “push presents?”